Ritual
by Grey Wings Bathed in Blood
Summary: Originally a one-shot, now a series of one-shots between Dracula and Shirra.
1. Of Corsets and Comforts

Dracula waited outside the door of his fledgling's room with the patience of a saint and the excitement of a child on Christmas Day : Today was the day she was wearing a dress.  
  
Considering the fact that she seldom wore dresses, that WAS a big deal. Especially since she HATED corsets. ("Whoever invented these HATE women!" She had raved and ranted once.)  
  
He looked carefully at his pocket watch. Any moment now...  
  
Five...  
  
Four...  
  
Three...  
  
Two...  
  
One...  
  
"Oh, Sweet God, HOW CAN ANYONE WEAR THESE?!!"  
  
Right on time. Placing the pocket watch back in his pocket, he knocked on the door and asked,  
  
"Need any help?"  
  
Silence. The sound of the door unlocking followed. There she was, her waist- length chocolate streaked inky flowing locks past her pale bare shoulders, her hands crossed, her face a petulant expression. Funnily enough, she looked beautiful like that. The dress he gave her was an ice-blue number. All she wore was the lower part now.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"Turn around."  
  
Sighing, she turned around. Taking the strings in his hands, with the skill only one accustomed to doing this-or rather, someone performing a ritual-, he pulled hard at the corset. With perfected skill, he pulled harder. Shirra gripped onto a bedpost as if hanging on for dear life. She was biting her lower lips so hard they started to bleed. Then, tying the laces together swiftly and smoothly, he was done. He raised his eyebrows at Shirra. She had clung onto the bedpost so tightly, sinking her nails into it that she left marks on it. He had to hold back a laugh. Gently, he slid the upper half of the dress onto her form, before slipping a turquoise choker around her lily-white neck.  
  
"Come now dear, the dead don't feel pain."  
  
"This one does."  
  
"Come now-its not so bad is it?"  
  
He asked, stroking her hair.  
  
"Easy for you to say. YOU'RE not wearing it."  
  
"Aren't we fiesty tonight."  
  
She rolled her eyes. Judging from a streak of pride in his voice, she knew she must look lovely-even if she couldn't see it. He slid his hand down her back while encircling her waist with the other, pulling her into his arms. The earlier discomfort of wearing a corset disappeared with his touch. She simply leaned on him, enjoying the silence and safety of her sire's arms. If this was what happened every time she wore a corset, she would certainly start wearing dresses daily come tomorrow.  
  
(Sorry if this sucks..I'm having a bit of writer's block now...) 


	2. Kislany

Heres yet another one-shot-ratedPG-13 ..to be on the safe side...  
  
"Where were you yesterday?"  
  
Shirra looked up from her obscure volume, cocking her head to one side inquisitively. She wore a long, flowing black dress tonight. Her hair was in a bun. She looked unusually feminine tonight.  
  
"What do you mean?'  
  
"If I'm not wrong, you left my side around 3am-only to return at late noon.."  
  
A slight smile of understanding quirked up her lips.  
  
"I was out practicing my Lord."  
  
"Again?!"  
  
"Blame the ronin blood in me."  
  
Dracula muttered a curse in Romanian. As much as he enjoyed seeing how strong she was, it perturbed him that the ronin in her enjoyed waking up early.  
  
FLASHBACK  
  
She opened her eyes around 3am. She turned to see her love and sire, asleep, his arms round her. Surely not now...Sighing quietly, she disengaged herself before leaving the coffin and changing into a pair of pants and a blouse. Turning once more to Dracula, she kissed him before closing the coffin –and went to practice.  
  
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Dracula opened his eyes the moment she left. This was getting to be quite a habit, he observed. Wednesdays, around this time. Oh well, it could be worse... He went back to sleep. He would have a talk with her later...  
  
88888888888  
  
Present Time...  
  
Fortunately, it was once a week. For now at least.  
  
"What is wrong, Vladislaus?"  
  
She asked, sitting up on the divan they both reclined on. She bookmarked the page before closing it to look at him.  
  
"T'would appear it is becoming a habit for you to leave me all alone in my coffin, dearest.Soon, I shall spend my days and nights alone-  
  
"Do not be so petulant or melodramatic,"  
  
She mock-scolded him.  
  
"Or what? You'll punish me? Go ahead."  
  
"No."  
  
"Sadist."  
  
She rolled her eyes and returned to her book. Or, she tried to, for Dracula took on a crushed look( read: puppy-dog eyes).  
  
"Do you hate me so?"  
  
"Don't be so extreme, Dracula...Of course, I love you."  
  
She laughed, entwining her fingers in his raven locks. He knocked the book out of her fingers, where it fell upon the floor like a bird with too many wings, before pulling her into a kiss. She cried in surprise before returning it to him.  
  
"So, my little kislany (little warrior-thanks imajere ), care to see how your practice has paid off?"  
  
"Quite agile in speech are we? "  
  
"That's not all that's agile, my little rose."  
  
With that, he brought her to his chambers. 


	3. Pixel

Pixel, Dracula's very own Fool-or jester- were both the apple of Shirra and Dracula's eyes. Yet, he had an annoying-almost religious habit of entering without knocking-or announcing his presence. Both can still remember the WORST incident concerning that though-with a little –no, MUCH horror...  
  
Pixel happily skipped round the castle, singing a sad song. He enjoyed being a walking –well, skipping paradox. He wondered where Shirra was. He liked her sense of humor-not so twisted as his Master's- and she was fond of him too as he was of her. He decided to tell her a new funny story he had concocted in his quicksilver brain of his. Last he saw, she was with his Lord in his chambers, reading. He skipped all the way there, singing. (A/n: Is it just me-or is that TROUBLE I smell?)  
  
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Shirra awoke upon hearing Pixel's singing. She smiled. She had missed Pixel after he wandered off a month ago.  
  
"That is his nature. He'll return."  
  
Her sire assured her. And return he did, yesterday night. She looked around the room she was in. Below the heavy Venetian curtains, Night had fallen once more. Whose room was it? Whose bed was she on? Certainly not hers. Se looked down-  
  
And saw Vladislaus Dracula-Count Dracula –her love and sire, before her-his head in between her legs. Their attire was upon the floor, slightly ripped and torn from last night's exertions. Nonetheless, she could not deny she had enjoyed it thoroughly, along with him. He was (pun intended) one Hell of a lover alright. He looked different with his hair let down. Moving carefully, she turned around-and slid under the covers, next to him. As she did, Dracula opened his eyes, revealing obsidian pools that could drown anyone who looked too deeply which was probably why Shirra seldom looked people in the eye.  
  
"Good evening, my love,"  
  
He said, pulling her into his arms-only to frown when she did not answer.  
  
"Did you hear that?"  
  
"Yes. Just Pixel singing."  
  
"Is it just me-or can you hear it getting-louder?"  
  
"Oh Hell-  
  
Pixel bounded into the room, yelling,  
  
"EVENING SHIRRA, I'VE MISSED YOU SO..O..O.."  
  
He turned red at what she just saw. Shirra screamed in shock, rolled off the bed and part of the blankets to her chest to preserve her honor. Dracula wrapped a cloak round himself, glaring hard at the (definitely doomed) fool.  
  
"How do I kill thee? Let me count thy ways..."  
  
He muttered. Pixel simpered.  
  
"Am I interrupting something?"  
  
Silence. Then,  
  
"Oops."  
  
Months ago, he had barged into the library when both were necking each other. Months earlier, he had nearly made Dracula drop Shirra at the parapet, singing at the top of his lungs. Almost religiously, he had intruded in on their bliss. Only occasionally fortunately. If not for Shirra, Dracula would have killed that fool a long time ago.  
  
"I think we should have locked the door."  
  
Muttered a sheepish Shirra.  
  
"Understatement,"  
  
Her sire thought. His teeth were becoming fangs now.  
  
"Pixel?"  
  
"Yes, Lady Shirra?"  
  
"RUN!"  
  
It was a priceless sight: A pixie being chased by a bat-like creature chased by a (now fully clothed) vampire in human form, one screaming bloody murder, the other screaming out for the formers blood and the last one screaming for the latter to cease. Twould appear it was "Pound Pixel (To Pieces)" Day...  
  
SORRY IF THIS SUCKS-I AM QUITE BUSY NOW.... 


	4. RainDancer

Pixel was getting dizzy. He was watching his master walk back and forth in his chambers, ranting and raving, swinging his hands about. To be frank, Pixel had enough. And it unnerved him. Any more pacing, Dracula would probably wear a hole in the floor.  
  
"WALKING UP THE WALL AND STARING STRAIGHT INTO MY FACE BEFORE I WAKE UP...CHALLENGING ME ... EVEN THAT I CAN HANDLE..."  
  
He ranted for the umpteen time.  
  
"...WAKING UP BEFORE ME TO PRACTICE FENCING...LETTING ME BURN...GIVE ME THAT! ANYTHIING BUT-  
  
"-Dancing in the rain,"  
  
finished Pixel. He sighed. Dracula shot him a withering glare.  
  
"ANYTHING BUT THAT!"  
  
He finished. Dracula always had the last word.  
  
88888888888888  
  
EARLIER...  
  
The sound of the rain cascading down like liquid pearls upon the castle roof awoke Shirra. She smiled, excitement tingling all over her. In her haste to get up, she forgot the coffin door was CLOSED, therefore-  
  
BANG!  
  
She muttered an unladylike curse while Dracula opened his eyes and said,  
  
"What now?"  
  
"Stupid coffin door-  
  
"Where do you think you are going?"  
  
"To take a walk outside."  
  
"Its raining."  
  
"Precisely."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"Care to join me?"  
  
"Not on my afterlife-  
  
Kissing him goodbye. She opened the coffin door and leapt out like a gazelle, skidding to a halt before the door-then rushing out, laughing as the rain washed over her. She felt like she was a child again.  
  
"More like her second childhood..."  
  
Dracula muttered. He hated rainy days-and Shirra's 'inner child' even more...This was getting to be quite a habit lately...  
  
88888888888888  
  
The door swung open. There was Shirra, wearing a wet pair of pants and red blouse- and a wry grin, her wet hair let down to her waist. To say she was wet was an understatment. She was saturated to her bones with H2O. Her hair clung to her face and neck, threatening to choke her. Her clothes clung onto her-and her rather divine figure was on display.  
  
"Ranting again, Vladislaus?"  
  
Pixel (WISELY) disappeared from the room at once. She spoke before her sire could answer.  
  
"We all have our own little idocrystancies, my love. Bear with them. Besides, hate the sin, but love the sinner."  
  
"Spoken like a true believer of the Faith."  
  
"Right."  
  
Silence.  
  
Ochre-black pools met cold obsidian.  
  
"Why are you here for anyway?"  
  
"Making it up to you."  
  
Dracula grinned at the innuendo behind it.  
  
"Care to help me get out of these wet clothes into some ?"  
  
"Aren't we naughty,"  
  
He said, placing his coat around her wet shoulders, willing the doors to LOCK. He decided NOT to make the same mistake TWICE ( See last chapter). Did he say he HATED rainy days? He took that back. He would have to beg the dark Gods for more rainy days... 


	5. Of Dreams and Nightmares

On certain days and nights, Shirra would have nightmares. Not the kind that made one sit up in bed and gasp for air-but the type that left one screaming and thrashing on the floor. But in three consecutive nights, she would be having nightmares, leaving her sleepless and gasping for non- existent air. Dracula would then hold her in his arms and watch her till she fell asleep. She had been having them for so long he knew when they arrived. She would be silently mumbling to herself, then fidgeting, moaning then silence...only for her to awake screaming, flailing her limbs.  
  
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"What...happens in your dreams?"  
  
asked Dracula when they were reading in the library one night. Shirra stared into space, an open book in her hands but its contents were certainly not on her mind. Her eyes were tired.  
  
"I see-a kaledioscope of images: Myself on a stake...You bleeding to Death...Alina drained of blood...My family..."  
  
She stopped. She could not go on. Crimson tears rolled down her face, resembling rubies.  
  
"I know-they are merely dreams....but they are so real-  
  
She looked up. Two crimson trails stained her marble cheek. She dropped her book and cradled her face in her hands.  
  
"I swear I shall go mad if this goes on."  
  
Dracula pulled his fledgling into his arms and dried her tears and gently soothed her. As she slept peacefully-for now-he bit her wrist and drank some of her blood. With it, he absorbed her thoughts and her emotions. Later, he would fight her fears for her if he could.  
  
8888888888  
  
Shirra stood at a lake, washing her face. She wore a flowing white dress made out of silk. She heard footsteps. She turned to see Velkan-to her relief.  
  
"Velkan! What are you doing here-  
  
Velkan embraced her like a lover.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
she repeated.  
  
"Revenge."  
  
"What-  
  
She pulled away from him-and saw a stake in his hand.  
  
"What is this?"  
  
Velkan's handsome face became a sneer. Anna came out of the darkness, her face grim. In her hands, a stake too.  
  
"You left my beloved brother-for Satan's bastard child?!"  
  
"I thought you forgave him...I thought you understood?!"  
  
"Did we say that?"  
  
She turned to see Van Helsing and Carl.Each held stakes in their hands, their faces were stone cold. Alina bared her neck, revealing two angry puckers. She too held a stake.  
  
"Some friend you are."  
  
She spat. Her family glared at her.  
  
"Disgraceful, ingratful child."  
  
She fell to the floor, covering her ears. This could not be true...Slowly, they surrounded her. Velkan came forth with the silver stake.  
  
"Die, devil wench."  
  
He snarled, before plunging it into her back...  
  
888888888888  
  
Dracula watched the scene with unfolding horror. Him perhaps but certainly not her! He cried out to her but it appeared it was all in vain, for the stake loomed ever closer...  
  
When she looked up and caught it with her bare hands.  
  
Or not.  
  
"You are not Velkan."  
  
She whispered.  
  
Velkan looked shocked. The silver stake sizzled in her hands but she refused to let go. She got up and looked around.  
  
"You aren't who you think you are!"  
  
she yelled. All dropped the stakes, angry yet-scared?  
  
"IMPOSTORS! COWARDS! ILLUSIONS! MY FAMILY LOVES ME! SO DOES ALINA-AND VELKAN TOO! AND I KNOW IT!"  
  
They backed away. Fear was written all over their faces. Dracula then threw a conjured pistol to her. She caught it without even turning back. She unsheathed it.  
  
"No...you can't-you won't..."  
  
"No,I believe this pistol is real and I believe it is possible to take you down-and I SHALL."  
  
She pulled the trigger and shot- the space behind Velkan. Ina flash, the images faded, leaving a horse-faced creature lay on the floor, dead. The name NIGHT MARE was tattooed on its neck. It too faded after some time. Turning to Dracula, she looked at him-and passed out.  
  
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She awoke then. Dracula watched her sit up.  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
She didn't answer him.  
  
"Thank you, my Lord. You saved me there."  
  
"YOU did, my love."  
  
"No, if you hadn't called out to me-I wouldn't have snapped out of it. I would have believed the illusions."  
  
"I believe common sense also helped in that area."  
  
"Yes...I realised that my true family would not stoop so low to kill their own flesh and blood..."  
  
"Silly girl-isn't THAT obvious?"  
  
He chided her lightly, kissing her forehead. She closed her eyes again-and for the first time in days, she fell into a dreamless slumber. She need not fear anything-not when she ahd a angel of darkness to watch over her.  
  
ANYONE CATCH THE IRONY IN THE LAST LINE? 


	6. All Hallows' Eve Surprise

For most people, Halloween conjures up images of jack-o-lanterns, costumed children going,

"Trick or treat!"

Not Shirra. Every year, on the 31st of October, without fail, she and her Lord would leave for the All Hallows Eve Ball, where they would dance the night away. It was done almost ritualistically and religiously. Both looked forward to it. He would surprise her-and she would be dazzled, like a child.But tonight, ONLY tonight, would things be very different...

88888888

Dracula tapped his Hessian boots on the marble floor somewhat impatiently. What was keeping his fledgling? Normally, she would simply slap a sprinkling of make-up on herself, put on a choker and earrings-and she'd be done in just under 15 minutes.

_I'll be damned if she is 'fashionably late'-wait, she doesn't even know its existence!_

"Sorry, I'm late-

"About time-

All the other guests stopped whatever they were doing and turned to see their Master's consort.

She was wearing the same dress she wore several years' back- half black and white-, with a more...interesting update.

It was a strapless number, leaving her shoulders bare. The dress itself was less voluminous, beautifully tailored to hug Shirra's form. Around her lily white neck, a new choker that resembled a spider, lined with tear-shaped crystals. And to complete it, a bracelet in the form of a dragon was wrapped around her left arm. She looked...exquiste.

(A/N: I have TONS of drawings for this but due to the fact I have NOT a scanner, I cannot post it-Oh, the unfairness of it all! –Anyway, could any of you PLEASE draw this-or any scene from my fic and send it to me PLEASE?? I'll be in your debt forever...Back to the story, sorry...)

Vladislaus could not tear his eyes off her-and he realised he wasn't alone in this.

"Women's perogative, milady,"

He said, his tone now silk and satin melded together, as he took her hand and kissed it.

She smiled.

8888888

"Did I surprise you?"

"With what?"

Asked Dracula as they did a waltz.

"My tardiness-and my dress."

"The former, expected. The latter, a definite yes."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it,"

He replied, dipping her.

"But surely that wouldn't take an hour and a half-

With that, she pulled out of his arms as he brought her back up and snapped her fingers. Pixel appeared out of nowhere .A Spanish guitar in his hands.

"Now,"

She yelled. A tune from Carmen began to play. With the grace of a flamenco dancer-which Shirra certainly didn't have before-, she began to twirl and dance. She took a rose from a table and placed it in between her teeth. She was...different. Much bolder, much more daring-and ever so sexy. She gave Vladislaus a come-hither wink-one he accepted too-gladly- before twirling once more-in his arms.

Pixel then changed the tune to a Fandango. Fast, furious and very sensual, the vampiric guests applauded as Shirra and Dracula pressed themselves each other. All they needed was to be alone...

88888888888

"I had to feed off a flamenco dancer-and learn some basic skills,"

Explained Shirra later, sipping a glass of blood.

"In only 90 minutes?"

She rolled her eyes. Men contradicted themselves, living or dead.

"Bet you were surprised my Lord."

"To tell you the truth, I WAS. But-

He pulled her into a long dark, sensual kiss, leaving her breathless( The irony...). He grinned.

Shirra stared up at him. THAT was unexpected.

"Vladisalus-

"Happy Halloween, my love."

And the lights went out.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN TO ALL REVIEWERS OUT THERE!


	7. Of rebonding Repercussions

It's been awhile since I've written a (humor-laced) chapter for "Ritual". Enjoy.

Unholy shrieks emanated from Dracula's fortress. They were shrieks soaked in pain and agony. They were ear-bursting, hair raising - and they came from Shirra's room. Shirra was the screamer. The cause?

Knots in her hair. (A/n: She should try re-bonding…)

Pixel was shaking from all the noise. Vladislaus, as composed and calm as dark, charismatic evil men go, thought the battle cries of Old was Mozart compared to that cacophony upstairs, no matter how much he loved his dear wife. And besides, he was sick and tired from having to comb his hair down (the 187th time this week) after her shrieks made it stand on ends. This was beginning to become a ritual for them all.

Dracula tore up the stairs and knocked-he was a gentleman to the last- on her door.

The sounds –now louder- made the cries of Hell sound ever so bearable. They stopped.

The door swung open-and a woman resembling Sadako (from "The Ring"-the original), albeit with a rat's nest of hair, appeared. Dracula cracked a few ribs from not laughing at the icing on this cake: A comb was still stuck, nay, fused into her hair.

"Need help?"

"Understatement."

She growled.

Dracula decide to remove the comb from her hair to start. It proved difficult-but not impossible.

"Now, sit down."

Amazingly, Dracula managed to comb her hair into a somewhat decent –looking style.

That was…until he hit a knot.

"Great,"

He muttered. He pulled-or tried to- and he pulled, and he pulled, until-

888888888888888

Pixel decided to pay his lady a visit, to see how she was doing with her battle with her hair. As he was about to open the door, a figure in black flew out of the door-into Pixel, sending them both out of the window-and all the way down (One word: Ow.).

Shirra ran to the window, horrified at the turn of events.

"Are you alright?"

"Besides the fact that we are currently in pain…YES!"

roared two voices.

"FOR THAT, VLADISALUS DRAGULIA, YOU ARE SLEEPING OUTSIDE TONIGHT!"

With that, the windows slammed shut.

Down below, Dracula looked at Pixel. Pixel started,

"She should try re-bonding-

"YOU'RE doing it next time."

(END)


	8. Possessions & Patrons of Love & Art

Shirra, the fourth-and FINAL-bride of Dracula was more than just a patron of the Arts.

Nay, she seemed to be a foster child, near-kin of said Arts, often confirmed as she seemed to enjoy engaging in several activities of artistic ability with full volume and intensity the way one spends their God-given time with their blood kin.

Dracula had once awoke-and found her not by his side, but at the parapet, fully dressed, writing with full concentration upon her visage. She had been a talented artist, especially with words, pouring her heart and soul upon ink –lined parchment the way William Shakespeare and William Blake would have marveled greatly at.

"Enigma, sorrow and pain is my ink, my heart and soul the parchment I write upon…" 

Without fail, almost ritualistically, she would produce a masterpiece, consisting of either words, or of several strokes of colors from a brush (namely, blue, black or red). Sadly, the patriarchal society his fledgling grew up in were not accepting of such works of Art-much less from a woman.

"Whether in animal skins or royal raiment, Humanity have been nothing but little ignorant thorns, cutting either themselves or each other."(A/n: Thanks, JTHM!)

Well said, my dear… 

Dracula mused archly. Finally, another thing they had in common.

He was interrupted from his musings as he heard his fledgling playing her new violin-a Stradivarius. She was playing a simple yet obscure piece. The music was pure and very intense. He decided to let her finish the piece before entering her chambers, knowing that whenever she drew/wrote/played, or even practiced her favorite sport fencing she would be in a state of intense concentration, in her world, oblivious to everything around her.

Dracula had learnt that the hard way once, nearly losing his voice (after losing his patience after calling her several times but getting no reply) and an eye when he interrupted her when she was doing the former, when the sword flew out of her hand and at HIM.

The moment the last strings died away, he knocked on the door.

"Enter,"

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

He inwardly sighed in resignation. She was truly still in her own world.

"The Blood Moon Ball, finanszírozó a hegedı (angel of the violin)."

Silence.

"Give me 10 minutes."

Held on the first Month of the year, the Red Moon Ball was a grand affair. Many vampire souls would wear the finest shades of red, from scarlet to burgundy, and drink the finest scarlet sustenance's from many a Mortal's veins in the finest crystal flues.

Dracula had once assured Shirra that the blood came from 'willing donors'.

FLASHBACK

"…_Willing donors?"_

_Dracula seemed not to notice the exquisitely arched eyebrow and pushed a stray strand of hair away from his coldly beautiful face and replied cryptically,_

"_In theory."_

_END FLASHBACK_

Dracula held back a laugh as he remembered the look on her face as soon as he said those words: Priceless.

He cast his gaze upon Shirra - her hand in his-once more, pride and love filling what once was an empty, hollow void called his heart.

She was wearing a burgundy gown made out of taffeta and silk. The long voluminous sleeves of the gown were sliced off below the shoulder, leaving them bare, were covered with black lace. Around her neck, a complicated choker that was cleverly designed to resemble a cluster of red and black roses. Her hair was in a French Twist -held up with several small crystals in the shape of tear drops- and in a small braid, which was entwined with dark black ribbons, decorated with tiny red roses.

Had he still been alive, his heart would resound like several horses racing across a field at the sight of her. Still, he found it near impossible to tear his eyes from her. Tonight, she truly shone.

Then, Dracula realized he wasn't alone in being unable to tear his eyes from his wife.

"_Hasonlo szavark listajat (she is beautiful),"_

"_Valóban (Indeed)."_

"_Az Ön által megadott szóhoz/kifejezéshez (I wish she was mine)…"_

"Go amuse yourself for a while dear, I have some matters of importance to deal with"

He whispered to his wife in an uncharacteristic gentleness. She nodded, and left, with a violin case in her other hand. The moment she was out of sight, the smile left his face-and he grabbed the offending vampire who had yearned for his wife to be his by the scruff of his cravat and hissed,

"Know this, fool, that is MINE, make no mistake about that, and if I find your lustful eyes or filthy hands on her, you will spend the rest of your afterlife without hands or eyes, DO YOU HEAR!"

The fool nodded. No one dared to ever cross their Lord Dracula. Ever.

Releasing his hold on that fool's cravat, Dracula dusted his hands and took a goblet of blood to soothe the hellish fires of possessiveness in his hollow shell.

_Those fools can dream and lust for her all they want, but it is I that she shares her bed with…_

He thought. Not for the first time had this altercation happened. In fact, it almost happened ritualistically every time they went anywhere. Come to think about it, Shirra herself could be **QUITE** the possessive one herself…

_FLASHBACK_

_It had happened at the All Hallow's Eve ball last year. Shirra had worn a dark purple gown that clung to her lovely bust and waist and purple tear-shaped crystals in her hair. Her lovely countenance was compromised by the frown she now wore as well. _

_The cause? A vampiress in a lime-green dress that left little to the imagination was flirting with her husband._

"_How do you like my dress, milord?"_

_She cooed, in a sickingly sweet way._

"_Indeed-but don't you think the whore you borrowed it from wants it back?"_

_The green-gowned chit turned to face Shirra and sneered,_

"_And who might you be? His lover?"_

"_I'm not his lover-_

"_Then stay out of this conversation. Wait your turn-_

"_**-I'm his wife."**_

_Shirra snarled the rest, the glass in her hand shattering with the effect of her clenched fist._

_Silence filled the ballroom. Even the musicians ceased their playing._

"_But w-where are the others?"_

_The other brides, she probably meant._

"_Dead and gone. And so will my husband, should HE consider making another-and so will YOU, if you do not LEAVE!"_

_She need not be told twice. _

_Dracula raised his eyebrow in shock and amusement._

"_Shirra!"_

"_I'm yours Vladisalus, and you are mine. Forever-and beyond."_

_She told him, her voice as solemn as a bride reciting her vows, before kissing him…_

_END FLASHBACK_

Dracula found Shirra holding conversation with several other vampires and a few vampiresses. They noticed his presence and bowed. Shirra turned to see her sire.

"I apologise, I did not see you."

"It does not matter, kislany (little girl)."

He laughed at her scowl. How she hated that nickname.

"Why don't you show these guests what you can do with your violin."

"Will do,"

Immediately, she took out her violin and started to play Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata". The stirring piece brought many away from the blood and their conversation towards Shirra, like moths to the flame, only less deadly.

Just then, Shirra abruptly stopped, and before everyone's eyes- SMASHED the violin into splinters.

All gasped in horror at such meaningless destruction of a Stradivarius-or so they thought.

Shirra looked at their shocked faces-and laughed.

"'Twas only a cheap violin from my last 'meal'…the real Stradivarius is right here,"

She said as she reached back into her violin case-and removed the real Stradivarius out of the case.

"It is not always the instrument, but the one who wields it, that makes the difference."

She told the crowd. And with that, she began to play once more. And when she was finished, Dracula applauded the loudest.

Several hours later, back in their chambers, Dracula held his sleeping wife in one arm, while stroking her wavy chocolate-licorice colored hair with the other.

Of all the women he had loved, Shirra was by far, the most different-and unique. So beautiful, so artistic, so fiery, so possessive (!)-and philosophical…

"_Love is like a violin…even after the music fades, the strings are still attached."_

She had once said, after she played a tune for him.

_How so very true…_

He thought, pulling her closer. Who would have known the Arts could have such a strong bond with matters of the heart?

Shirra stirred a little. Dracula kissed her and closed his eyes. Tomorrow, she would create yet another masterpiece-one that plebian Humanity would yet (or perhaps never) appreciate or understand-save him alone…

Yes, his Shirra would create-just for Him….

(END)


	9. Checkmates

Forgive me for not writing for some time. Due to some kids playing with a tennis ball that ended up whacking me in the eye some days ago, nearly injuring my cornea but fortunately avoiding my line of vision (to quote my doctor). Fortunately, my eye's on the mend, thanks to God's healing hand, prayers…and antibiotic eye drops.

So, allow me to add another chapter to "Ritual"…

P.S. This one's for "The Unrequited Lover".

Over the years, Dracula learnt a great many things in his damning immortality. But there was one he NEVER forgot: Women can be temperamental.

Understatement… 

He mused wryly as he uttered the one word that sent HIS woman into yet another fury:

"Checkmate."

Shirra's small but strong, pale hand smashed down onto the oak table, nearly causing the chess pieces to fall from their positions, as she uttered a Bavarian curse. Opposite the table, cool as Winter, was her lord and sire, Vladisalus Dragulia, looking very amused at her reaction. She had many buttons that when pushed, could send her into various furies that even Hell would fear.

_Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…or in this case, a woman who lost a game of chess **again**…_

Thought Dracula, paraphrasing the bard's immortal words. To be honest, this was getting to be quite a ritual with them both nowadays.

"Practice makes perfect, my dear. Its like Life really, you learn as you go."

Unfortunately, Shirra was in no mood to listen. Said mood was as black as her attire. Her lily-white neck was harshly contrasted with an ebony colored choker consisting of lace, leather and barbed wire (!) made to resemble a cluster of roses, while her immortal form was clothed in a strapless laced-up bodice and long, flowing skirt that resembled a raven's plumage. Her arms too, were covered in black Venetian lace gloves that half covered her fingers, which were now clenched in beginner's frustration.

"Forget it,"

She hissed, throwing up her hands in exasperation as she got up to leave.

"Oh no, you're not,"

Interrupted Dracula, grabbing her forearm, gently pushing her back down into her seat.

"You're not giving up so soon-

"The real reason you don't want me to quit is because YOU enjoy watching me suffer…"

She growled.

Dracula just smiled disarmingly as he started a new game. She wasn't exactly wrong, but why let her know she was right?

"Your move, my love."

Shirra's temperament had changed drastically from the past hour. She had changed from an unwilling player to a now fierce and determined one. And Dracula wasn't about to complain.

Unlike Dracula's cool and calculated moves, fiery little Shirra often rushed into matters, seldom thinking of the consequences, hence her downfall, especially in chess.

"Checkmate."

Dracula announced, looking his opponent straight in the eye. To his utmost surprise, Shirra was not in a rage, nor was she resigned. There was an uncharacteristically predatory smile on her lips.

"Shirra?"

In a split second, Shirra threw herself upon the love of her (after) life and opponent in chess, knocking down the chess pieces as she did, her cold yet smooth lips meeting her sire's equally icy lips in an immortal heartbeat. However, she parted all too soon. Before Dracula could snarl in protest, she smiled wickedly and replied,

"Checkmate."

Before continuing her kiss.

Touché, my dear…'twas an unexpected move…a cheating move, but a good one nonetheless… 

Thought Dracula archly as he entwined one hand through his wife's licorice-chocolate colored waves, the other round her waist while deepening the kiss.

If this was what was going to happen every time they played chess, well…they were certainly going to do so everyday…

(END)


End file.
